Life's Surprises
by TheseBrokenWings
Summary: On hold, probably permenantly. Harry is home, depressed and withdrawn, from his sixth year at Hogwarts, when a strange package is dumped on his doorstep. Will it help him deal with the reality of his life, and help him with with he knows is to come?
1. Chapter 1

Life's Surprises

Chapter 1

"Potter! Open the bleeding door!" Uncle Vernon yelled, startling Harry out of his stupor. He dropped his fork into his plate of scrambled eggs with a clang, standing up and walking down the hall toward the doorway. Behind him, he heard Dudley dive to steal his breakfast. But oh, well. He hadn't wanted them anyway. Normally he would have retaliated to Uncle Vernon's order with a snarky comment, or would have complained about Dudley's theft, just to spite him. Even last summer, when he was coping with Sirius's death, he would have. But now… now he barely had the energy to pull himself out of bed in the morning, even with Aunt Petunia's shrieks of "Get up! Get up!" He really just wanted to vanish. He bent down to pick up the bundle of letters on the welcome mat, not bothering to flip through them. There would be nothing for him in the Muggle post. He didn't even go through the letters delivered to him by wizard post any longer. He didn't want to speak to his friends. He didn't want to go stay with the Weasleys. It was all just too exhausting. Stuffing the letters under one arm, he turned to bring them back to the Dursleys, when the doorbell rang again. Harry opened it mutely.

Lying at his feet was a sky blue shoe box. Its corners were worn, as if it had been kept in a closet for a number of years, but it didn't seem to be falling apart. There was a scrabbling sound coming from inside. Harry knew he should be careful. People were trying to kill him. But then again, people had been trying to kill him for years. And it was just hard to care anymore, especially on a sunny, pointless day, in Little Winging.

He pulled the top off the box. A white creature leapt out of it. It stood on all fours, tail sticking straight out from it; its back arched angrily, its fur sticking out in every direction. It was a ferret. A white ferret, to be exact. Harry blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. He knelt beside the ferret, reaching out a hand to pick it up, and almost immediately pulled his hand back "Ow!" The ferret turned and ran into the bushes.

"Are you having trouble, Boy?" He heard Uncle Vernon calling. "Can't even bring in the mail, can you?"

Harry stuck his injured thumb into his mouth, sucking on it gently. "Ratty beast," he cursed, staring at the stop where the ferret had vanished. He got up and, kicking the shoe box behind the bushes along with its passenger, slammed the door behind him.

He set the letters down carefully next to his uncle, not wanting to aggravate him anymore. It wasn't worth the trouble. Sure, if he got in a fight with him, it would be a momentary. As he began to make his way up the stairs, he heard a sharp voice calling to him. "Potter!"

He paused, not bothering to turn. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"There's blood on these letters. Blood!" She told him. Harry could just picture her waving them around in the air, face twisted into an expression of utmost outrage. "I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia. I cut my finger," he lied. He didn't want to be dragged to the clinic for a round of rabies shots. Not that the Dursleys would care if he died, whether from rabies or the killing curse, but they certainly wouldn't want him endangering them.

Aunt Petunia gave a little "Harrumph!" which Harry took to mean that he could go. He took the stairs two at a time, not out of any excitement for what he'd find up there, (It was only his trunk in his room, which he hadn't bothered to open since he had returned home from Hogwarts. Homework seemed like quite a pointless thing, given the circumstances. So just that, along with a few piles of unopened letters,) no, he just wanted to be away from the Dursleys. He wanted to be away from everyone. He was about to slam his door, but thought better of it at the last moment, catching it in his hand, and closing it gently. It would be much harder for his relatives to forget he was here, as he wanted them to, as he wanted to himself, if he was making noise. Wishing, not for the first time, that there was a lock on the door, Harry threw himself on the bed. Hedwig looked down at him from her cage atop his dresser, giving him a disdainful hoot.

Harry had stopped letting her out, first during the day, and then at all. He had the distinct feeling that she was growing tired of him, and he was sure that if he let her out, she wouldn't be returning. He had no idea where she had been going when he let her out, only that her absences had been increasingly long, and every time she had returned, talons weighted down with more and more letters, on the last journey with more than she could carry. She had appeared with a haughty barn owl, who had turned his beak up at the owl treats Harry had offered him, stopping only to take a few half-hearted gulps of Hedwig's water, before taking wing out of his bedroom window. Harry had wanted her company, so he had decided to keep her locked up. He knew that it was a bit selfish, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. Besides, he didn't want his letters. Hedwig had taken to pecking at him, desperately trying to get him to open them, until he had locked her in her cage. Whatever. She was proving to be dreadful company, anyway. She would barely look at Harry, much less talk with him as she had used to, with her friendly hoots, and nibbles. She hooted loudly, interrupting his thoughts.

He was suddenly over come with anger, at himself, at the world, at life, and especially at Hedwig. Fine. If she wanted to abandon him now, when the world had gone even more insane than usual, when he needed her most, fine, he would let her go. He didn't need her. He yanked open her cage, standing aside and gesturing violently toward the open window. "Fine! Go, now, and don't come back. I'm tired of this, too goddamn tired." At first, she stayed plastered to the back of her cage, seeming afraid, (A fact that gave Harry far too much pleasure,) but then she inched her way along the perch, finally opening her large wings, and soaring soundlessly into the light. "And don't come back with any bloody letters!" He yelled out at her, earning himself a glare from a next door neighbor hosing off his car.

He slammed his window shut, glass rattling ominously in its frame. He threw himself back onto his bed, dislodging a number of letters which had been stuffed under his pillow. They fell to the floor. Harry ignored them, swiftly kicking them under the bed. He did not want to think about them. He did not want to look at them, not even to see whether it was addressed in Ron's untidy scrawl, or Hermione's neat, prim handwriting, or Hagrid's messy script, or Dumbledore's—He stopped himself, growling softly under his breath, his hands involuntarily balling into fists. No. He wasn't ready to think about that. He wasn't ready to think about the wizarding world at all. He just wanted to lie here, and not think, and not exist.

The door bell rang. Harry tried not to scream.

Without waiting for the inevitable call of "Boy!" or "Potter!", Harry leapt out of bed, wrenching open his door, and bolting down the stairs to the front door. "What? What is it?" He yelled angrily. At no one. There was no one there. He furrowed his brow, leaning out of the door to peer to either side of the house. Stupid Muggle children and their stupid games. Ding Dong Ditch. Dudley had tried to force him to play it when he was little; of course, it had ended up with him spending hours with Mrs. Figg, talking about her dead cats… He looked down. It was the box. He crouched beside it, examining it carefully. Yes, it was definitely the same box as before. It ever showed the abuse it had endured, an extra, toe shaped dent adorned one side, and it was considerably muddier than it had been before, but it was the same box. It even had the same curious, scrabbling sound coming from within. He stood up, looking around incredulously. Who the hell..?

Harry stepped over the box, bending over the hedges and searching them. No one. He straightened, spinning around. No one. No one anywhere. Unless they had Apparated, and Harry certainly hadn't heard the sound of an Apparation, it seemed that someone invisible had delivered the box, and its passenger. He looked up, finally noticing the neighbor across the street, still hosing down his car. "Hey! You! Hey, you there!" Harry called, a bit rudely.

The man looked at him, sneering nastily. "Aren't you that insane boy? Attends St. Brutus's?" He asked.

Harry ignored him. "Did you see anyone leave that at my door?" He asked loudly, pointing at the box.

The man shook his head, turning quickly away from Harry. Frustrated, Harry scooped up the box, and, stepping back into the house, closed the door.

"Who was it, Potter?" Came Dudley's voice. It sounded muffled, as if full of something, which it undoubtedly was.

"Er…just some silly kids playing tricks." Harry answered. He returned to his room, propping a chair up under the door knob. It wouldn't keep anyone out for long, but at least Harry would have more warning if someone were to decide to barge in. He set the box down on his bed and sat beside it, staring at it. Finally, he opened it. The ferret again dove out of the box, this time flying directly at Harry. It landed in his lap, and began leaping about, back arched and fang bared, in what seemed to Harry almost a comical way, until it found his hand, and dug its teeth deep into the back of it. Harry yelled, yanking his hand back. The ferret backed away, falling backwards off of the bed. Harry leaned to look over the side of the bed, just in time to see a furry behind scrabbling underneath. Scowling, he rolled onto the floor, standing on all fours to look. He was surprised. The ferret did not launch itself at his face. It did not back away in fear. It was not even moving. It was staring at his letters, almost as if it could read the address. And if an animal's face can show emotion, this one's was showing pure shock. Slowly, the creature raised it face from the letter on the floor, to look at Harry. And then it did launch itself at Harry's face.


	2. Chapter 2

Hallo, I'm TheseBrokenWings. TBW might be better. I forgot to say that I certainly do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the other characters mentioned in this fanfic. Please do not sue me. I have about four dollars, anyway.

I hope you all enjoy this fic. This chapter is slightly pointless, but it is still important. The next one will be much more exciting, I promise. Probably.

Life's Surprises

Chapter 2

Harry leapt back, landing on his bottom, his head cracking back against the dresser. He reached up, and yanked the ferret off of his nose. He clutched it to him, immobilizing it. It stared at him, looking entirely annoyed. Harry stood up, and shoved it into Hedwig's cage, slamming the door shut and latching it definitively.

The ferret ambled around, examining its surroundings. It sniffed disdainfully at an owl dropping, then curled up in a corner, staring at Harry reproachfully.

"It's your own fault that you're in there," he told it. It did not respond. Not that Harry had expected it to. He reached up a hand to scratch the back of his head, messing up his hair further. "Well… I suppose I should clean that cage… It can't smell very good in there." He glanced around for his wand for a moment, before remembering that he couldn't use magic. Scowling, he opened the cage slowly. The ferret didn't move. Harry pulled out the newspaper, quickly replacing it. He tossed it into a garbage can, then returned to the cage, staring at the ferret. "Now, that's got to be better, hasn't it?" The ferret rolled its eyes, but Harry was already looking away. "I guess I should take out Hedwig's perch, shouldn't I?" He asked. "It's not as if you'll be using it, and you'll have more space if it's gone…" He reached in, careful not to touch the ferret. It seemed docile enough now, but if the bite marks covering his nose were any proof, it hadn't been before. He unhooked the perch, laying it down beside the cage. "There we go." He glanced behind him. "Er… I wonder what ferrets eat." He muttered. The ferret uttered a squawk of outrage. Harry looked back at it, instantly concerned that he had hurt it, but it was too late, it had already run along his arm, out of the cage, and leapt from his shoulder onto Harry's bed. It ran to the window, scrabbling at it with its tiny nails desperately, then jumping onto the floor to scrabble at the space under the door. Harry just watched. He was sure the creature couldn't escape from the room; it was pretty adept at keeping things trapped in it. He had been trapped enough times to know that.

Eventually, the ferret tired, laying down beside the door in a huff. It did not protest when Harry picked it up, wrapping his hands around its middle, and placed it back inside the cage, this time carefully closing the door, but leaving it unlatched. "I'm afraid there's no escape… you'll have to stay here. I couldn't let you starve out in the wild, now could I? Now, I suppose I'll have to feed you what I get… there's no way I can get anything else. And you're bound to like something." He shook his head, laughing. "I guess I have another pet," He told himself. The ferret sniffed.

He lay back on his bed, arms crossed beneath his head, staring at the creature. It was smaller than it had seemed when hanging off his face. It even seemed sort of pretty to him, all pure white, except for its cute pink nose, and hauntingly silver eyes. It lay curled up in a ball, nose resting on its tail, watching Harry appraisingly. Yes, it was almost cute, despite the fact that when he looked at it, what he immediately thought of was the dead ferrets which he and his friends had thrown to Buckbeak, -- He meant Witherwings -- in his third year, or, well, Draco Malfoy, of course… He paused, feeling another wave of anger flash through him. He did not want to think about Draco Malfoy. He didn't want to think about his friends either, for that matter.

At the end of his last year, when he had made his decision not to go back to Hogwarts, but instead to travel abroad to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes, Ron and Hermione had promised to come with him. They had even promised to come with him back for his required stay at the Dursleys. But were they here? No, obviously. Harry was all alone with the Muggles, just like every year. He was sure there were many halting explanations in their letters, just like there had been when they had taken the train home. Hermione wanted to go home first to say goodbye to her parents, Ron needed to attend Bill's wedding (Harry had decided not to go, he really, really did not want to be around Ginny,) and so on, they'd come meet him later. So he waited, but he had long since given up on that. They were not going to come. He had tried to leave on his own many times, as it was nearly the end of summer, and he was quite sure that he had stayed long enough to keep it so he would always be safe here. Not that he cared, really, he had never planned to come back after this summer, but Dumbledore had wished it. Dumbledore… wasn't going to wish anything else of him, ever again, so…

Harry wiped angrily at his eyes, sitting up, to look out the window. It really was far too sunny. It shouldn't be sunny when he felt like this. He wished desperately it would rain.

Well, not just because he wanted the weather to match his mood. If it had been raining, he would have been able to pick the lock to the cupboard under the stairs, take his Firebolt, and fly out of here, as he so desperately wanted to. But there hadn't been any rain in weeks, and he couldn't think of any other way to escape. The Dursleys wouldn't drive him anywhere, and they were many miles away from any train or trolley station. The Knight Bus seemed to no longer be running, Harry could only assume that this was because Stan Shunpike was still locked away in Azkaban, and no one had come to get him. He would be needed, wouldn't he? They couldn't possibly be defeating Voldemort without him, he was in the Prophecy! They _needed_ him! Besides, he knew what no one else did. He knew the only way, the only possible way, to kill Voldemort. Unless Hermione and Ron had gone about telling everyone… He resisted the urge to get up and kick things into rubble. He didn't know why he had ever trusted those two with Dumbledore's secret. It was supposed to be just between them, and Harry hadn't even been able to keep that promise… he wouldn't be able to be the one to continue Dumbledore's work, he was sure that his so-called friends had told the entire wizarding world about them by now, breaking their cover, ruining any chances he had at winning this war, at avenging the deaths of first his parents, and then Sirius, and the Dumbledore… And of saving himself, he supposed. Neither can live while the other survives, after all. Not that that really mattered to Harry. He didn't want to be here. He just wanted to vanish, to make them all leave him alone. And since it certainly didn't seem as if they needed him, why couldn't he? Why couldn't he just leave, never to be heard from again, or better yet just kill himself, and then this whole stupid affair would be over and done with, and—He felt a wet nose on his cheek, and opened his eyes to see the ferret. It nudged his cheek gently, then wiped away the tears with the back of its paw, such a human gesture that Harry couldn't help but smile. It promptly curled up, face away from Harry's, its furry back resting against his cheek, and fell asleep. Harry lay there, watching its chest rise and fall with every breath. It was hard to feel upset with a warm, fuzzy body, resting against your skin, Harry thought, with another rare smile. Eventually, he fell asleep, too.

Only to wake up with a start. "Potter!" The thick voice of his cousin Dudley reverberated through his door, the doorknob rattling. "Potter, why've you got the door barricaded, you know that you aren't allowed to do that." He paused. "I bet you're wanking in there!" He shouted, accusatorially.

Harry leapt out of bed, angrily pulling the chair away, and hurling the door open. "What do you want, Dudley? I haven't got any food in here, you know."

Dudley glared at him. "Mum and Dad say that unless you wish to go hungry, it's time for supper. You already missed lunch, you know," He told him, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"I'll be down in a minute. Now shove off." Harry told Dudley, closing the door in his face. He would probably pay for his rudeness when he got downstairs, but he hardly cared. Now that Dudley mentioned it, he did feel quite hungry. Oh… he was sure the ferret was even hungrier. It had obviously been abandoned, so who knew when it was last fed? He looked around for the ferret, finally noticing its head poking tentatively out from under his bed. "Don't worry about him," he told it. "But it was good thinking to hide yourself. I'm sure that they wouldn't want me keeping you here, even if you are just a normal, non-magical animal." The ferret huffed. Harry raised an eyebrow at it, then laughed. "I guess you don't like being told of your short comings, ferret." He knelt, holding his hands out in front of him. "Can you come? I'll need to put your back in your cage. I'll have to leave the window open in case my owl, Hedwig, comes back, and I wouldn't want her eating you." With that, the ferret came at him hurriedly. Harry picked him up under the arms, his back end dangling him in space, and raised him to face level. "Well, since you're staying, I suppose I can't keep calling you 'ferret'" He quickly raised the animal's tail, to which it squawked indignantly. "You're a male, so…" He ran through a list of names in his mind. "So I'll call you Alby. For Albus Dumbledore." Harry suppressed the tremor in his voice, gently placing the animal in his cage. "He was the best wizard ever, so you should be proud to be named after him," he told Alby, as he closed the cage. Alby turned from him haughtily. "I promise to bring you some food when I come back, Alby. It should be soon. Sorry for the wait, little buddy." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dinner with the Dursleys was much as it always was. Harry sat, staring at his plate, moving food around with his fork. He ate all he could, slowly and politely, (They hadn't yelled at him for being rude to Dudley and he didn't want to antagonize them more,) all the time slipping pieces of chicken into his pocket. When he was finished, he took his plate into the kitchen, rinsing it off and putting it in the dishwasher. Aunt Petunia was very proud of the dishwasher. It was very new, and top of the line. She had gone on for weeks about how they were the first family to have one. She had even forbidden Harry to touch it at first, quickly revoking that rule when she realized that it meant that she was going to have to be the one to load his plates.

Harry made his way back to his room, stopping only to fill a plastic bowl he had found at the back of one of the cabinets with water. He placed the water carefully in Alby's cage. Alby leapt. Harry quickly withdrew his hand, thinking that Alby was going to attack him, but no, the ferret stuck his head into the bowl, drinking in great gulps. Harry chuckled, reaching back in to place the chicken beside Alby. Alby pulled his head out of the water, shaking it vigorously and spraying Harry with water, before attacking the chicken. "Glad to see that you're happy," Harry said. He latched Alby's door shut, turn turned out the lights. It had been an eventful day, compared to every other day he had spent in the Dursley's house this summer, and it had tired him out, despite the fact that he had slept through most of it. Harry slept a lot, this summer. It was the only time he could count on being alone. He sometimes still dreamt dreams that were terrible, and painful, dreams of Voldemort murdering people, and laughing. He didn't even try to block them out, but he thought he could feel Voldemort trying to, sometimes. He obviously didn't want Harry to see. But as of yet, the dreams he did see didn't seem to be actual events, but things that had happened in the past. Things Voldemort seemed to be playing for him. But he was sure that if he tried, he could break through. He was getting very good at telling what was real, and what wasn't. He felt that it was only when he was asleep that he was going anything productive, that he felt at all like himself, that the world was worth staying in. Still, though he was loath to admit it to himself, Harry hadn't felt as happy as he had today in a long time. Sure, they were just meaningless, brief moments of happiness, and he was sure to regret them eventually… but when he looked at the creature, he smiled. And that was something. With a smile on his face, he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Yes, yes, yes, it's Draco. How many other white ferrets do we know?

And Harry isn't OOC he's Depressed!Harry. Wouldn't you be depressed, too?

Life's Surprises

Chapter 3

Severus sat in Malfoy mansion, his head between his knees, hand clutching at his forearm. Narcissa stood in the entrance to the room, the Library, watching him, the silver tea tray balanced in her hands. She couldn't help but be touched by his posture, the obvious pain he was in. He was being summoned, she knew. She had seen Lucius react the same way many times. Though, of course, he hadn't resisted. He was loyal to the Dark Lord.

Narcissa was loathe to admit that that title was said with the greatest distaste in her mind, now. Whatever she felt for him, the fear had to come first. The fear would keep her alive. She made her way over to Severus, placing a hand on his shoulder, after setting the tea tray down carefully on the desk in front of him. He reacted violently, flaring up, and for a moment Narcissa feared that he would bite her, he seemed that animalistic, but then his eyes softened, and he shook.

"Narcissa… I… not much longer…" he stuttered, eyelids fluttering.

Narcissa grimaced. She slid her hand up Severus's bony arm, pushing the sleeve up to reveal his Dark Mark. It glowed red upon his skin. She raised her wand, ready to utter a pain killing spell. Severus grabbed her wrist, shaking his head violently.

"No… he can tell." He grasped her wrist harder, pulling herself up, causing her to nearly topple over. "We have to do this now," He told her, voice tremoring, but Narcissa could tell that he was regaining control. For now. Until the pain worsened…

"Yes. We have to go this now," She agreed. She glanced at the tea tray, with the regret of one who keeps a home. It was a waste of tea, and dishes… but this wasn't the time. She knew that every second Severus wasted helping her; he was undoing the favor he had gained by killing the Dark Lord's most worthy adversary, Dumbledore. Narcissa had been unsure what side Severus really was on… but that had sealed it in her mind. He was a loyal servant. Still…he loved Draco. And that was a blessing.

She looked down onto the prone body of her son, lying on the floor. She had knocked him out, just moments before, when Severus and he had come toppling through the window on what seemed to be a very old broom. She had stunned him, and Severus had told her everything.

She still didn't completely understand. But what she knew was that although her son was alive now, he was not safe. She looked up at Severus, trustingly.

He nodded at her, pulling out his wand. She did the same. "Together, now," he said, quietly.

"1….2….3…Transformeo!" They said together.

At first, there was no discernable change. Concerned, Narcissa knelt beside her son. She stroked his forehead, brushing away his blonde hair. She rocked back, shocked. On his forehead was a spatter of blood. It was shaped like a lightning bolt.

She reached back down to wipe it away, but as she did, vanished, the red melting into pure white fur. He began shrinking, the fur crawling over his entire body, stopping finally at the tip of the tail he had sprouted. Narcissa gently picked him up, cradling him in her arms as if he was a baby.

Severus stood over her, reaching out a hand to pet Draco gently, ruffling his white fur. "A ferret. Just like the one which fake Mad-Eye turned him into in his forth year. It makes sense… He's been in this shape before, so he gravitated toward it naturally." He looked up, staring into Narcissa's eyes, connected by their love of the boy she held in her arms. "Where can we hide him…? If the Dark Lord finds him like this, he's sure to know."

Narcissa could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, tears of doubt, and fear, but when she spoke her voice was strong. "I know. I know where he will be safe."

Voldemort himself came to visit her that night. Severus was already gone, having been sent away, gratefully, back to the Dark Lord's side. Narcissa had not told him where she was going to hide her son. It was better that way. Severus was a talented Occlumens, but… there were to be no chances taken.

She sat, waiting, at the desk in the library. She had known that he would come. The table was strewn with a number of small, empty, glass bottles, the last drops of their contenses eating through the dragon hide top of the desk.

There were guards on the Malfoy Manner, much like those on Hogwarts School, but she knew they wouldn't stop him. They wouldn't make any difference. She had made her choice. She had aligned herself against him, with her son. And for that, she would die.

He appeared in front of her. There was no pop, or displacement of air, as there was with a normal Apparation. He was alone. That was an insult. No matter how fearful of his death he might have been, he needed no one to protect him against her. She was nothing.

"Where is the boy?" He asked her.

She didn't answer. His eyes flicked down, across the table, widening. He raised his wand, touching its tip to her forehead. "Legili—"

But she was already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Life's Surprises

Chapter 4

It was a normal, every day kind of day at the Dursleys. Harry was rudely awakened by Aunt Petunia. He was bitten by Alby while trying to clean his cage. (It was strange, the ferret always seemed to wait until he was gone to use the bathroom. He had gotten used to coming back into his room to find him waiting at the door of his cage, glaring at Harry, demanding to be out. He would quickly run under the bed, not emerging until Harry had removed the offending material, almost as if he was embarrassed by it.)

Then he made his way downstairs, tripping over one of Dudley's cars, and landing with a thump at the foot to the great amusement of his uncle. It was demanded of him that he prepare the bacon. He did.

Harry stood over the stove, prodding at the strips of fatty meat with a fork sullenly. Every once and a while, it popped, spattering him with boiling oil, but he didn't really care. It was nothing. He'd been in vastly more pain before, so who cared? All of this was so pointless.

"…Been a theft, Petunia," Uncle Vernon called to his wife, who entered the kitchen. She peered over Harry's shoulder, making a disapproving clicking sound at him, before sitting down and acknowledging her husband's comment.

"Oh, yes? Something valuable?"

"Seems like it." Harry heard a newspaper ruffling in the back ground. "Yes… a cup of some sort."

Harry froze. "A cup? Well, it couldn't have bee-," Aunt Petunia started, turning around to look at Harry. He stood over the table, brandishing the frying pan, still full of sizzling bacon.

"What cup? Stolen from where?" He demanded.

Vernon looked at him nervously; beady eyes glancing from the frying pan, to Harry's face, and back again. "Why do you care, boy? It's got nothing to do with you."

Harry set the pan down with a crash, neatly breaking Dudley's plate. "Give me that paper," He demanded.

"You order me around, boy? Go to your room. Now. No supper for a week." Uncle Vernon's voice was rising, his face turning its signature color of boiled lobster.

"I'll do magic,"

"You can't! Your ruddy school will throw you out, we know that, and-,"

"There isn't a school anymore. They've closed it. So if I need to use magic, I bloody well can," He said flatly.

"You…" Vernon glanced around wildly. His wife and son were both huddled behind him, with identical looks of terror on their faces. "You haven't got your wand."

Harry's hand flew to his back pocket, fingers scrabbling at nothing. He glared at Vernon. "Accio Paper!" He shouted.

The paper flew out of Vernon's hand, landing neatly in Harry's.

Vernon sprang towards Harry, shaking his fat finger furiously in his face. "OUT! OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He bellowed.

Harry smiled at him. "Glad to. Just going to get my things. Don't try to stop me." He ordered. Vernon looked about ready to explode, his mustache twitching angrily and his face beet red, but he said nothing. Harry backed away, and slowly walked up the stairs. When he was up, he sat down on his bed, staring at the paper in his hand in amazement.

He hadn't expected it to work. You couldn't do magic without a wand, it was impossible. Even Dumbledore hadn't been able to do that.

Of course… he had done it before, once. He had been desperate for light, and had lost his wand, but when he said "Lumos!" in pure frustration, the tip of his wand had lit up anyway…

But there wasn't time, was there? He unfurled the paper, skimming the article quickly.

Museum Robbed!

A Priceless artifact has been stolen from the London Art Museum today. Police are baffled as to how the thief managed to get to this priceless treasure.

"It wasn't even on display yet!" Museum Curator Reginald Forbera is quoted as saying, "It was under tight lock and key in the cleaning room, which is custom with new accusations. No one knew it even existed except for my associates and me."

The cup, which is a large, silver vessel, with a badger imprinted on it, is appraised well into the millions, so it was under even tighter watch. To even get to it, one has to pass many guards into the building, the security system which should alert everyone if any door is opened, the laser security lines inside, not to mention numerous locks and codes once one reaches the cleaning room. None of the alarms were tripped, and the locks were opened with no damage to themselves. The police are considering this an inside job.

Harry's heart was beating so hard, he was sure it would burst. The cup. This was the cup. And it was obvious to him, at least, that it had been taken by a wizard. Any wizard could have gotten past Muggle security. Harry would have to go get it back, and destroy it, that was his promise to Dumbledore.

He stood up, tearing off the page from the newspaper, and stuffing it in his pocket. "Come on," He told the ferret. "We're going on a trip. I'll tell you about it later, but we're in a rush now." He unlatched Alby's cage, placing him gently on the ground. Then he turned, pulling out his trunk, and beginning to stuff his things into it. When he was finished, he stood up, looking around. "Now, where's my wand?"

A strange dooking noise, which Harry had quickly learned to associate with the ferret, was coming from under the bed. Harry lay down on the carpet on his stomach, peering underneath.

Alby was standing beside his wand, prodding it with his nose, and making noises, almost as if he was trying to say something. "Are you trying to cast a spell?" Harry asked with a chuckle. He reached under the bed with both hands, pulling them out with a ferret in one, and a wand in the other. The wand he slipped into his back pocket. He held Alby up under his front legs, dangling him in front of his face. "You should be more careful. What if you'd actually made it do something?" Alby looked at him mournfully for a moment, then began twisting his head around, in an attempt to bite Harry's thumb. Shaking his head ruefully, Harry set him down. "Now… We need to travel light, so I can't take the cage. I guess you can either ride in the trunk, or with me."

Alby took one look into the trunk, then scrambled up Harry's leg, ending up perched on his shoulder. "Alright, but keep a tight hold." He told him. Harry had expected as much. The ferret hated the dark. At first, Harry had tried locking him in the cage at night, but his whines had been too much, so he had taken to letting Alby sleep with him on the bed. Besides, it was nice having a warm fuzzy thing to sleep with. That is, when Alby would let him pet him. Mostly, he would allow a few pats, then rise, shake his head vigorously, take off to the other side of the bed, as if realizing he was doing something stupid. He was a strange little creature, that was sure…

. Taking out his wand, Harry quickly spelled his trunk to be light, and small. He picked it up, and strode downstairs, Alby riding proudly on his shoulder. His relatives flatly ignored him as he passed them, and he made his way into the morning sun, feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks. He would find out who stole the cup, take it back from them, and destroy it. And then he would be one step closer to killing Voldemort.


End file.
